


We're Finally Free

by melanoradrood



Series: Wish I Could Be, We're Finally Free [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Follow up, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Yule Ball (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:20:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28523082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melanoradrood/pseuds/melanoradrood
Summary: It has been four years since she has danced with Draco Malfoy. She intends on dancing with him again.A follow up toWish I Could Be.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Wish I Could Be, We're Finally Free [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2089413
Comments: 23
Kudos: 145





	We're Finally Free

Approaching the Great Hall, Hermione can hear the very end of Headmistress McGonagall’s speech. She speaks of unity, of breaking the bonds that had once held them all, of ending prior prejudices, and moving forward together into the New Year.  _ The greatest gift I could receive from all of you might be to see this school healed, and old rifts repaired. I wish to see my students thriving, to see new friendships formed, and for those that once looked at others with hate would instead look at them with love. I ask that you all give me that, give me hope that it might be achieved in my lifetime. _

Loud applause fills the air at the end of the speech, and Hermione nods to herself, agreeing with it. This had been what she spoke of, in convincing the Headmistress to host this ball. This had been what had bought the Yule Ball of 1998 - the idea that unity could be restored. The past term had been filled with hatred and loathing on all sides, with no one trusting others. All of the houses had pulled in on themselves, save for the Hufflepuffs, who had tried to start group therapy… It had not gone over well.

No, what the school needs is a grand show of unity, and Hermione knew what would do it. Even with the Malfoys being whispered as Blood Traitors, those within the school still looked to Draco as though he was their leader. He was spending the school year on probation, given that he wore the mark of a Death Eater on his arm. All Slytherins knew that he was still in charge within this school, and outside of it even, with their generation Malfoys always seemed to survive. He would survive this, but his actions mattered.

The way to heal the rift within the school was to have a leader of the Light reach out their hand towards the Dark. She could so easily remember when he had reached out his hand towards her, had comforted her, had drawn her close. She intended to do the same. 

But, her reasons were not selfless. This had been a long time building. She had spent the entire school term looking for a way to approach him, but he had avoided. When she tried to corner him, to approach him, he always seemed to slip away. She had stopped trying for a time, giving him space… 

He had apologized to Ron, to Harry, to Neville, to so many within the school, but never her. There had to be a reason for it, and tonight, she intended to find out.

_ And now, let the Yule Ball begin _ .

Hermione moves from where she had been hiding within a dark alcove to stand before the doors to the Great Hall, wide open and inviting. She sees her friends off to one corner, laughing as though everything is grand, but no one moves to dance, even as the music starts up. The Slytherins are off to another corner, looking aloof and cold, although a few of the younger students perk up at the music, likely wanting to start dancing as they had been taught from their youth. 

The dance floor is empty at present, however, which is perfect. This is to be a grand entrance - grander than even the one from Fourth Year. She wants all eyes on her. She wants there to be no doubt. She, Hermione Granger, is entering the Yule Ball with eyes for only one man.

She sees him, standing in the middle of the Slytherin students, a drink in his hand, but he is not chatting, is not laughing. His eyes are instead on her, taking her in as she enters. She pauses in his gaze, looking back at him, and then looks down at her dress.

The periwinkle blue is much the same as the one she had worn four years prior, but this is sleeker, older. It’s strapless, being held up with sticking charms and a zipper she had to suck herself in to zip, with an empire waist. From there, the skirt flares out with fold upon fold of fabric, falling until it all graces the floor, making her almost appear to walk on clouds. She has to resist the urge to reach into her pocket, wanting to touch the embroidered handkerchief within - she had kept it with a stasis charm all of these years, wanting to preserve the scent on it, the knowledge that he had touched it.

The handkerchief, like his cloak, were the only two real reminders she had of that night. They were treasured, above everything else. Even on the run, even in the coldest of nights… Ron had asked her, once, where she had found such an expensive cloak. She had refused to answer him, not wanting to lie about it, but not wanting to share the truth. That night was for them alone.

Pushing away thoughts of the past, Hermione looks back up and takes in a deep breath. Draco is still frozen in place, as though he is unable to move, which is a good thing. That moment alone was his one chance to escape - if he did not want to do this here, if he did not want her to approach, then he should have left the Great Hall all together. 

None approached her as she began walking once more, this time heading towards the Slytherin group. She could see, out of the corner of her eye, a number of other students whispering, chatting, even a few stepping back out of her way, not that they were in it, but she did not look away from him. Students around him move, until eventually, Hermione stood before him, their eyes still locked.

She could feel every eye on her, which was exactly what she had expected, but now in this moment, it almost feels intrusive. Perhaps she had misjudged, perhaps this was a poor idea, perhaps-

No. No, time and again, when he could have withdrawn from her, he had not. He had warned her away from the Quidditch World Cup, he had warned her about Umbridge with his taunts, he had flinched away all during sixth year -  _ he had stared into her soul while his aunt tortured her _ . Without a doubt… the boy that she had danced with in Fourth Year was still within this man. This sad and distant man.

He was still the person she remembered. He was still that same boy. And now… everything was different. He had wanted the world to change, and it had. They just had to change with it, now, by allowing themselves a moment, just a chance-

“Hello, Draco,” she says, her voice soft.

He does not look away, his eyes widening slightly at the sound of his name on her lips, but then he seems to remember himself, straightening slightly and taking in a deep breath. “Hello, Hermione.”

She smiles at the sound of her name on his lips, trying to keep herself from moaning at the way his lips move, but she can feel goosebumps running over her arms. How can just two words affect her so? It’s beautiful to her ears, his posh accent curling around each syllable, and she has to choke back the desire to kiss him already.

She will never call him Malfoy again. Not after the end of the war, not after knowing how he had nearly cried, hearing her use his given name so long ago. He will always be Draco to her, no matter what happens - he is Malfoy to so many others, his last name a trap, but not to her. Never to her.

Malfoy was a name spat in anger. Draco was a name sung in pleasure.

“Dance with me.”

Her words are not a question. They are not even a request. No, this is a statement, a repetition of last time. However, she has a slight change to add to last time, because last time had been a stolen moment. This time, it shall be the start of something new.

“And not just this once.”

He doesn’t move, his shoulders tense, and she holds her breath, waiting for his answer. She tries to tell herself that, should he deny her, she can move forward… but emotionally, she is trapped. Hermione had dreamed of this moment, of winning the war and seeing him again, of dancing with him again, for so very long. And now, here it all is. Hanging for a moment, on his response.

“I’m still the same person,” he finally says, and it’s not a no, but his eyes look away from her, falling to the floor. “Worse, given what’s on my arm.”

She did not respond with the first thing on her mind, partially because it was to curse, but also because she knew that pain, wearing a mark that had been forced upon you. Her own arm, covered in glamors, wore a similar type of mark… one that she would bear the rest of her life. Ignoring that would change nothing. 

He had wished, so long ago, to be a different person, to be worthy of her. She needed him to realize that something  _ forced _ onto him would never make him  _ more _ unworthy. They had fought in a war - and survived. They both wore scars for it. So many scars…

“You are still Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Pureblood prat,” she says with a smirk on her lips, curling up to show him that she is teasing as he finally looks up at her once more. “And I am still Hermione Granger, Gryffindor Muggleborn know-it-all.”

His lips part, as though to speak, and then close once more - it is all that Hermione needs to continue speaking, a near invitation coming from his hesitation.

“But, it was never you or I that needed to change. No… The only thing that needed to change was the world.” He blinks at her words, as he begins to process them, and Hermione steps closer, reaching out and touching him, her fingers curling over where his mark is, hidden beneath his dress robes. “And it has. We have changed it, for the better. The only thing left to do…”

She releases his forearm, but allows her hand to hover between them. Her gaze goes down to her fingers, curled slightly, hanging in mid air, then looks up just in time to see his eyes returning to hers as well, having just left where her hand is between them. “Is for you to take my hand, and see where this dance leads us.”

He looks scared, and she can feel it, an apology on the verge of spilling out from him. She doesn’t want to hear it, though. All she wants is to know that there is still a chance that he feels the same way… and given how he looks at her longingly, as though he wishes for nothing more than to take her hand, she can make a healthy guess that his feelings have not changed.

“Dance with me,” she whispers, so only the two of them can hear. “Don’t say anything else.”

She can feel all of her fears and anxiety building her chest as he still just stares at her for a few moments longer, but then, he is handing off his glass to another student, and reaching out towards her hand, taking it. She tries to not cry with relief, instead wanting to look brave and strong and sure of herself as they step towards the middle of the room. A new waltz strikes up, something similar to the Yule Ball, but as his hands slide across her back, their poses are just as they had been in that corridor, so long ago.

His fingers tap, one, two, three, and then they step as one, Draco leading her. Back, and then forwards, and then turning together, spinning around the floor. There’s no question that they have done this before as they begin to move, their bodies entirely in sync. His fingers dip a bit lower than they had before, settled just at the base of her spine, and their fingers interlock within seconds, gripping one another. Her free hand slides into the long strands at the base of his neck, a bit longer than it had been before, no longer tamed by gel.

He looks beautiful under the lights, and she can’t help but to smile up at him, her Dark Prince turned Light. He smiles back, and there is no one else in the room with him as they move together. His fingers press slightly at her spine and she knows to relax her hand behind his neck, spinning in his arms. She can see so many eyes on them as she does so, but then she is back facing them, and no one else matters, just his silver eyes on hers.

He smiles down at her, then, a beautiful smile that is free and relaxed, the happiness she has ever seen him. She smiles back, not wanting to laugh in case anyone thinks she is laughing at him, but she wants to laugh for joy, for happiness. His fingers press again and they turn as one, leading her from one step to another, until the song comes to an end. She fears he might draw away - 

And then, he is spinning her once more. They move into the next song, his pose becoming more and more relaxed, still keeping with the steps, but their bodies now close and touching. His fingers are splayed on her back, and she wishes she had gone for a style that would have showed off the skin there, but then she blushes at the thought - he seems to have caught that blush, because his brow raises in question, and she shakes it off, smiling up at him.

Each time he spins her, she can see more and more students are no longer looking at them, as some start to join in the dancing. She can hear the whispers, though, the whispers of their names, of what might Ron and Harry think, of what his parents might think. For her part, at least, she had written to her best friends a few hours before, notifying them that she intended to dance with Draco at the Yule Ball, and they would have to deal with it. His parents… well, he was the head of his house, now that his father was in Azkaban, and his mother was on house arrest. She didn’t think he would much care for their opinion right now.

The third waltz in a row comes to an end, and she dips before him in a curtsy as he bows before her. Another slow song begins, although it is not one that she thinks has a proper dance, but Draco draws her close all the same, this time his full forearm wrapping across her lower back and his hand grabbing hers, fingers tangling together as he pulls her to him. Her hand rests on his shoulder, and she wishes she were taller, or at least not with such a height difference. He had grown a full head since the last time they danced, but then her head is resting on his chest and they begin to sway, just dancing together and enjoying the closeness.

She can feel his heart beat against her cheek, and she closes her eyes, listening to it as they dance close, his lips brushing over her forehead once or twice. She imagines that his eyes are closed as well, simply savoring the moment between them, before they had to speak. They did have to speak, of course, but in this moment, nothing is wrong, and they are together. That is all that truly matters.

“Do you remember what happened the last time we danced?” she asks softly, wanting only him to hear her words.

She can feel an uptick in his heartbeat, and then he nods slightly, just enough that she presses on with her thoughts.

“I plan to do that again,” she warns him, and she pulls back slightly to look up at him, wanting her eyes to lock with his. “And then I think it is time that I retire from this ball, lest any of my friends think that I want to dance with them, as I have with you.”

He swallows, giving a nod, and then his lips part in question. “But you only want to dance with me.”

It’s a statement. Not a question. Still, she gives it a nod.

His eyes close, and she can see his lips moving, and she does not believe that wizards pray, but it certainly looks as though he is. His eyes open after another moment, but he says nothing. She fears it is doubt, that he thinks he is not worthy…

“Your father’s sins are not yours. It’s not a question of who is worthy or not. It’s not a question of what you were forced to do or had to suffer. It’s not even a question as to what the future holds. The only thing that matters right now is… do you want to kiss me?” Her voice is cracking as she speaks, but she presses on anyways, not willing to give him up without a fight. “Because I want to kiss you, and if the answer is yes, then-”

He cuts her off with a press of his lips to hers. They stop moving, stop swaying, stop everything, just kiss one another as his hand presses into her back, keeping her close as he loses himself in the kiss. Hermione melts into him, her second kiss in her life, and she can feel her knees going weak as her hands tighten around his neck, not wanting to let go. She can taste him, taste firewhiskey and Muggle cigarettes and there’s gasps and whispers around them but she’s kissing him, he’s kissing her, and there is no beginning or end between them.

It is simply them, the pair of them, together, and nothing else matters.

She finally pulls back, needing air, but he chases her lips and kisses her again. His free hand goes to her hair, fingers tangling in her hair, loose around her shoulders and down, as he had requested so long ago. There’s a cough from nearby, likely from a teacher, and that’s enough for them to draw back just enough that their lips are no longer touching, but their breath is intermingling as their foreheads press together.

“Come up to my room,” she whispers, her eyes still closed.

A groan escapes his lips, but she says nothing else, letting him work out his feelings for a moment. It’s a good thing, too, because he makes another noise before finally answering. “Do you know what you’re asking? Is that what you meant to ask?”

She wants to kiss him again, away from everyone around them, and she can hear a professor talking about Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy, so their time is running short, but this evening cannot end, not yet, not here.

“Yes, no, I don’t know,” she whispers, and her eyes open to look at him, seeing they are already open. “I know what I’m asking, and I don’t know, but I need to kiss you again-”

He presses his lips to hers quickly, a simple peck, and then he withdraws from their embrace, catching her hand as he does so. Hermione turns and immediately sees Headmistress McGonagall a few steps away, brow raised. Hermione gives the woman a nod, then looks to Draco, who looks slightly nervous. 

She tugs on his hand, drawing him out of the Great Hall, and the speed at which they move is certain to draw a number of questions and rumors… except, they are both adults. Full adults. They’re over age, Eighth Years. And really… what does she care? She had never much listened to what others said of her anyways.

Climbing the stairs to their level takes far too long, but they both resist the urge to touch further, not until they are within the Eighth Year common room. Then, his hands are on her again, picking her up by her hips so that he can tug her onto his lap as he sits on the couch. She goes with him, tugging her flowy skirt up so that she can straddle his lap, and kiss him again.

She doesn’t know what possesses her, but in seconds, she’s gasping against his mouth, gasping as his mouth goes lower, to her neck and her collar bone. His hands are in her hair, running up and down her back, and she feels his thumb catch at the top of the zipper, and she longs to feel him tug it down.

“I dreamed of this,” she gasps into the air, her head thrown back as his open mouthed kisses move to the top of her breasts. “Every night, when we were cold and starving, I dreamed of seeing you again, kissing you-”

“I dreamed of you,” he murmurs into her throat, and then she is the one kissing on his skin, on his throat, his collar, wanting to tug down his robes and shirt so she can reach more skin. “On the loneliest of nights, I knew that you were far away from hell, from me, and that you were still safe as long as you were on the run. When I saw you at the manor-”

She cuts him off with another kiss, not wanting to talk about the manor, and their lips both part as they kiss, tongues deepening, unable to get enough of one another. She feels raw and inexperienced, but he seems to be much the same, kissing her with wild abandon. She craves him, wants to be consumed by him-

“I saw you with McLaggen, at Sluggy’s-” 

“God, I hated him that night. I saw you, wanted to follow you, but you had been-”

“I had to make certain, that you were not with him. I couldn’t bear it if-”

“I waited for you,” she insists, pulling back enough to look into his eyes. His hair is wild, his shirt and robes tugged at the collar, and his lips swollen as he looks up at her. “I waited for you. I never kissed another. I waited for you, knowing that one day, the world would be different, and we could-”

“Bloody Hell, Hermione,” he groans, and his face presses into her throat, but he does not kiss her again, instead, just holding on tight, his arms wrapping around her middle. “Don’t… you can’t say things like…”

She can feel something between them, and she wants to ask, but his actions have clearly led her to believe that he wants to stop, so she does not push him further. Instead, her fingers bury in his hair, holding him tight. Eventually, he lets out another groan, then draws back to look at her.

“I have to show you something,” he says softly, and he pushes up his sleeve on his right arm to reveal a braided ribbon there… a braided ribbon of periwinkle, pink, and purple. She recognizes those ribbons, recognizes all of them, because she had started losing them, and so many others, during fourth year and beyond.

“Draco?” she asks softly, and she looks up at him with wide eyes.

“I kept these… as a memory of that night. I couldn’t resist. You rarely wore a hair ribbon, but I always wanted to see your hair, down and free… so I stole them.”

He looks vulnerable, and she imagines how he must have felt, trapped within his own house, with nothing but memories… it reminds her of her own life, with the cloak.

Reaching into her pocket, she withdraws his handkerchief, and he looks at her in wonder. She smiles weakly at him, trying to ignore the tears in her eyes. “I also… up in my trunk is your cloak. I kept it with me, every step of the way. It was always warm, even on the coldest of nights.”

He kisses her again, and this is softer, gentler. It’s a kiss of promise, of hope, of love… 

“I do not deserve you,” he whispers, and she opens her eyes again to look down at him. He looks sad… but she is tired of sadness. Tired of feeling sad, of seeing sadness on the faces of so many others. They had won a war. It was time to be joyous.

“The war is over,” she says, and her fingers brush away a few strands of hair that she had mused enough to fall over his forehead. “The world is changed. It no longer matters who I am, nor who you are. The future is what we make of it, and if-”

“If a Death Eater wants to be with the Golden Girl, then people will accept it?” he interrupts bitterly. 

It becomes clear, with his words, that he had thought about this, time and again.

But, so had she.

“I like you,” she says softly. “And I think I could love you. But, you have to let me. I make my own decisions. Modern witch, remember?”

He looks up at her with those sad eyes again, and her thumb brushes at the wrinkle between his brow. She doesn’t want to see that anymore, doesn’t want to see any more doubt or pain.

“In this new world… the only way to heal it is to have the two old parties come together. The Pureblood and the Muggleborn. If we want this world to move forward… Blood Purity and old hatred has to end. It ends with love, Draco.”

She gives him a tiny smile as she speaks, but he says nothing, just looks at her with those big eyes.

“And…” She takes in a deep breath. It’s the last argument she has prepared for tonight, and it’s selfish, but she deserves to be selfish for once. He clearly wants this, wants her, wants a future and happiness and love, and… “I have only one wish. I wish that you and I could be together… for as long as we are both happy. But, only one person can grant that wish.”

She gives him a little smile, urging him on, urging a response.

Eventually, he speaks.

“It will not be easy,” he promises.

It’s enough for her.

“But it will be worth it. Being together.”

She smiles at his words, and kisses him again, soft and sweet. Together, they shall be. Together, and free.

**Author's Note:**

> BY POPULAR REQUEST. HERE IT IS. THE FOLLOW UP.
> 
> Did y'all see that ladykenz actually DREW SOMETHING FOR ME?!?! Like, for this fic!!! You can find it on her tumblr or on her facebook group. Absolutely unreal. I'm still in shock and awe of this occasion.
> 
> You can find me flailing about on [tumblr](https://melanoradrood.tumblr.com/), probably still screaming about Bridgerton. My apologies.


End file.
